Fire and Brimstone DJ Quik

[Verse 1]
I don't give a fuck about you, you, her, him
That bitch, that nigga, ya'll, them
Pussy clot laws dripping out ya'll trim
'Bout to fill ya cup up to the rim with brimstone
Fuck yo Grammy
Stick the bell part up ya ass call ya mammy
I don't need ya love muthafucka god damn he
Critics wanna slam me
Put me in a jam till I come back with the jammy
Blaow, knock your whole car window out till ya eyes white out bitch lights out
Got you dead on arrival at your service on Saturday your whole family carry bibles
Got the whole building nervous, they turn around see me walk up in the service
I wrote your eulogy on toilet paper, right out in the rain
Niggas got nerve, well I'm your novacane

[Hook]
This is fire and brimstone, uh
Kill you with fire and brimstone, uh
This is fire and brimstone, uh

[Verse 2]
I'm a Mercedes man, a late 80's man
I guess you could call me the perennial ladies man
Got some really rich friends and they all really like me cause I really pitch trims
Sometimes when I'm bored I kick it with dumb folk
They all really hate me like rottening egg yolks
I love to rub it in because I'm not a proper fit for your world of bullshit
You miserable mutt minds flawed by design
You'll never have the temperament to experiment with the benevolent
You're irrelevant, it should be your job to shovel shit
You need to cultivate and develop it
Get in the manure business and sell a bit, good luck trick
I'm a precious stone, wrapped in parchment paper
Round brilliant cut shootin' meister jager
A dignitary, you're a lowly begger
Why don't you pull your plug you stupid nigga